


Of Gates and Keys

by Zephyrfox



Category: GoldenEye (1995), James Bond (Classic movies), James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Don’t copy to another site, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, paranormal elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22381501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephyrfox/pseuds/Zephyrfox
Summary: James Bond gets captured by Silva and thrown into a cell. A fellow prisoner holds the key to their escape — and so much more.
Relationships: Alec Trevelyan & Teresa "Tracy" di Vincenzo, James Bond/Alec Trevelyan, James Bond/Q
Comments: 80
Kudos: 135





	1. Chapter 1

James Bond kicked. He attempted to flail his arms, bent and bucked and twisted around. Anything to make it more difficult for the guards carrying him. Tried to get his mouth on any bit of anatomy he could sink his teeth into. Hard.

He got a bellow and a clout on the head for his trouble, and then he was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor of a dank cell. The door clanged shut, and he heard footsteps walking away through the darkness. He turned his head and spat out a mouthful of blood. His mouth stretched into a grin. Not all of the blood was his.

When the world stopped spinning, he managed to roll over onto his back. He lay there gathering strength for the next step — sitting up. 

A voice came from out of the darkness. “Are you all right?”

“Your boss is a lousy host,” James replied drily.

Silence.

“Not _my_ boss,” the voice said, sounding a tad put out at that thought. “Silva has nothing to do with me. I’m just his prisoner, like you.”

A fellow prisoner? James forced himself to sit up before he was quite ready, and swallowed down his nausea. “Who are you? For that matter, where are you? You sound close.”

“I’m in the next cell. My name is Q.”

James immediately thought of old Boothroyd, the MI6 Technical Services Section head, but this man’s voice was young. Possibly even younger than James himself. “Hello, Q.”

“I’d say pleased to meet you,” came the dry response, “but you haven’t introduced yourself yet.”

 _Ooops._ “Sorry. The name’s Bond. James Bond.”

“Pleased to meet you, Bond, James Bond,” Q said formally, a hint of amusement in his voice.

James chuckled. Q’s captivity hadn’t broken his spirit. Then, curious, he asked, “Why are you here? What does Silva want with you?”

“You, first,” Q shot back. “Wait. Hang on, I do know you. A Double O. 007, right?”

Alarm slammed through him. Was this Q a plant? “How did you know that?”

“The same way I know Silva is a former Double O.” Q paused, his voice hardening. “The same reason he wants me. For my computer skills.”

“Hmmm.” James didn’t quite believe that. Then again, he had no proof that this Q was a plant — or a liar. Could he trust Q?

Q sighed. “All right. I’m a Key Master.”

Stunned, James stared blindly in the direction of Q’s voice. A _Key Master?_ No wonder Silva was trying to control him. Key Masters were the, ahem, _key,_ to a great many talents. He supposed it was nature’s way of keeping a balance. Simple talents were easy to use. More powerful ones remained locked inside their user unless they had a Key to turn the lock. It wasn’t a one time thing, either. Each time a talent needed to be used, a Key had to be there, to free that talent. He’d had a Key Master that he worked with, once upon a time. He shoved his grief away. That was the past, and this was the now. “I’m a Gatekeeper.”

From Q’s indrawn breath, James figured his unwilling companion knew what that meant. They could escape. If, that is, they could find a way to touch. But if Q was in the next cell… James got to his feet and felt his way to the wall, then to the front of the cell. He reached through the bars. “Can you take my hand?”

“Think so. The walls between the cells are fairly thick.”

Voices came from farther down the passageway, laughing and jeering at each other. _Guards._ James swore. “Hurry, Q. We have to get out of here.”

“I know!” Q answered sharply. “I’m trying.”

James felt slender fingers brush his, followed by another mind that sidled up against his. _Q._ He grasped Q’s hand, and reached out with his mind. _Hello._

There was the feeling of sunlight on his face, then he could almost see Q, in his mind. Young, as he’d thought. Wild, curly hair and dark eyes, with a wicked smile. The smile reminded him sharply of — with a pang he pushed that thought away. Too late, though. Q had noticed and sent a questioning thought at him. _Not here,_ James sent back. 

He could feel Q’s nod. They were getting closer. Then something deep inside him quivered, responding to a questing thought. James hastily chose their destination as the gate opened. MI6. M’s office. Q was curious, but had no objection.

James gathered Q to him, and they _jumped._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q and James arrive at safely MI6. However, forces maneuvering behind the scenes lead Q to suspect they're not as safe as James believes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who loved the first chapter! I'm working on expanding the story. Hopefully you'll enjoy where it takes us!

Q found himself somewhat bemused. He’d gone from an unlit prison cell to the office of the head of MI6 — who wasn’t happy that he’d been disinclined to give his real name. Now James and this M person were arguing about him. Q wanted to pay attention, but the uncertainty of being free kept distracting him. Where could he go? What would he do? The whole reason Silva had been able to — 

James tugged his hand. “Q?”

He looked up, suddenly aware that it wasn’t the first time James had called his name. “Yes?”

M spoke, instead. She was an imposing woman, for all that she stood barely an inch or two over five feet. “You will be escorted to our medical section, where one of our doctors will check you over.” She smiled, which somehow failed to reassure Q at all. “We wish to be certain you’ve suffered no ill effects from your time as a prisoner.”

He darted a look at James, who looked back at him stoically. No help there. He understood, he really did. MI6 didn’t know him, or where his loyalty lay. Having him taken away to be checked over got him out of the way while M debriefed James properly. “I… erm... Yes, I suppose…?”

James unbent enough to lean towards him and whisper, “Just go along with Tanner, Q. It will be all right. There’s good people down there, and I’ll be along to check on you.” James cast a quick glance at M. “I need to talk to her first.”

Q nodded, and allowed Tanner to escort him down to the medical wing. It was, he was amused to notice, deep within the huge building. He had a feeling that James’ promise to check on him was actually a promise to get him out of there if needed.

Tanner led him into medical, where a woman in a lab coat stood waiting with a younger man in scrubs. “Doctor Foster. Here’s our… guest. Q, this is our physician, Doctor Clara Foster. I’ll leave you in her hands.” Tanner nodded politely at Q and left. 

“He could at least have stuck around to make sure you’re settled.” Doctor Foster gave a disapproving huff, then turned to Q. “Call me Clara. And this is my nurse, Josh Ward. Josh, is the emergency exam area set up?”

“I’ll just check,” Josh flashed a bright smile at Q and strode off in the direction of a wall of curtains.

Clara noticed Q looking around curiously as they followed Josh at a slower pace. “We have several patients in our regular rooms. The emergency exam area is where we usually, well, triage, if necessary.”

“I see.” Once the curtain was drawn back, Q saw a gurney with its wheels locked in place and set with a pillow and blanket. A raised tray was next to it, and over against the wall there was a stainless steel counter with a sink. Everything looked easy to wash down and disinfect. He suppressed a shudder as a vision of blood and other fluids overlaying the pristine surfaces flashed before his eyes. 

“Now then,” Clara said cheerfully. “Up you get. This won’t take long.”

* * *

Q wasn’t sure how long it was before they finally seemed to be done with the poking and prodding. Josh had given him some water, then Q had been left to his own devices in the curtain enclosed cubicle. Waiting, for whatever might happen next. _Everything’s fine,_ he reminded himself, trying to believe it. _James will come for me._

That certainty was odd. Why had he been so quick to trust James? He wasn’t usually so trusting. Still, Q was glad he’d admitted to James that he was a Key Master — he had no desire to still be Silva’s captive. He couldn’t help but be apprehensive, though. What would MI6 do with that knowledge? With _him?_

Footsteps pausing just outside the curtains alerted him. He tensed, waiting, but no one entered. _Why?_ He debated getting up to see what was going on.

A man’s voice came from the other side of the curtain. “Is it true, he’s a Key Master?” 

“Keep it down,” Josh hissed. “He might not be asleep yet.”

Asleep? Why would he— Q’s eyes fell on the glass. _Oh._ He hadn’t drunk any of it yet, which was starting to look as though it was a good thing. He looked around hurriedly. There was the sink, but if it was wet, they might suspect something. Next to the counter was a large bin, half full of used linen. With a shrug, Q emptied the glass into the bin and rearranged the sheets. He replaced the glass on the tray and curled up on the cot, letting himself go limp. Just in time.

A corner of the curtain twitched aside. “Good, still asleep. You could have woken him, Bennett.” The curtain closed again, and two pairs of footsteps moved away.

Q breathed a sigh of relief. Then he realized they were still talking, and he needed to pay attention.

“So, he’s asleep. Answer my question. He’s a Key Master? It’s confirmed?”

“Yes.”

Bennett swore. “We’d just gotten rid of the other one. Ronson. Why the hell can’t Bond stay free of Key Masters? It’s as though he attracts them.”

What? Q slipped off the cot so he could move closer. He had to know what was going on!

“It was bad enough he came here with his own Key Master.” 

That voice was a woman’s, although it wasn’t one Q recognized. Although, he’d really only heard M and Doctor Foster. Where had this woman come from?

Bennett huffed a laugh. “At least some good came of that. We have a Key Master we can use, along with the Firekeeper he had with him. But we can’t use either of them with Bond, because they all think the other is dead. And the Key Master we set Bond up with chose to kill herself rather than be our key to using him.”

“What do we do with this one?” Josh asked. “Allow him to stay with Bond?”

There was a moment of silent consideration before the woman answered. “Do you think we can manipulate him?”

“Unknown. Although he seemed trusting enough earlier, with me and Foster.”

“We might be better off planning to discredit and kill him,” Bennett said.

“Hmmm.” The woman again. “Very well. I have an idea to discredit him — and then he’ll commit suicide while in custody.”

Q’s eyes widened. He needed to get out of there. Now. 

“Keep watch on him, Ward. Bennett, with me.”

“Ma’am,” Bennett said, in a crisp, military style acknowledgement.

Josh presumably nodded. Or maybe saluted. Either way, the woman said nothing more to him.

One pair of footsteps approached again. They weren’t going to do anything now — the woman had spoken of discrediting him before they did anything else — so Q got back on the cot and tried to keep from shaking as the curtain opened. He held his breath until the curtain closed once more and the footsteps told him Josh was headed away.

Once he was sure Josh had left, Q filched his clothes off the counter and got dressed. They were rather filthy from his captivity, but so was he, and beggers couldn’t be choosers. He snuck to the curtain and looked out. Josh sat at the desk at the far end of the corridor. Q looked the other way. There was a door right there, looking as though it led to another corridor and hopefully out of the hospital wing. 

Q kept an eye on Josh while he eased the door open. The other man never looked up from his desk. Q slipped through the opening and stood against the wall as it closed again, listening for any signs he had been spotted.

Nothing. He relaxed, and once more scanned his surroundings. A random corridor in the depths of MI6, with nothing that might identify where he was. _Wonderful,_ he thought to himself, disgusted. He had no idea which direction he should go, either. He only knew one thing.

He had to find James.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James manages to track down Q, but isn't sure he can believe what Q has to tell him.

James Bond stalked the corridors of MI6, fury practically crackling off him. If he’d been a Firekeeper, fires would be starting spontaneously around him as he walked. As it was, MI6 personnel took one look at him and prudently found other places they needed to be. 

_Damn_ it. James had assured M that his stray was trustworthy, and the first time he’d taken his eyes off Q the little shite ran off. Needless to say, M was _not_ impressed.

James stopped at a junction between two hallways and looked down each one, trying to decide his next move. How much did Q actually know about MI6’s layout? He was obviously a mole sent by Silva, so perhaps James should be asking himself what _Silva_ would want to acquire. There were all those computer servers he had seen while being held on the island. Possibly something computer related, then? And that meant MI6’s Technical Services Section. 

With that determined, James headed down, toward the lower levels of the building.

* * *

Q wandered through MI6. He’d managed to acquire a badge, complete with a lanyard, from an unoccupied desk. That poor sod would be having a difficult day when the loss was discovered. Q had needed it to blend in, so he didn’t feel too guilty. Most of the employees didn’t look at him twice, despite being disheveled and looking nothing like the person whose badge he’d swiped. Hive mind — he was inside the perimeter and appeared to have appropriate credentials, and that basically amounted to a free pass. They assumed he belonged there. Still, he wasn’t a fool. Surely Ward had discovered him missing and had raised the alarm. Q had avoided several guards already, although they hadn’t seemed to be actively searching. _Where could he find James?_ That had to be his priority. 

He followed a vague instinct as he roamed the seemingly endless hallways of MI6. He just hoped it would lead him to James. Finally, Q turned a random corner and stopped. Relief filled him. Everything would be all right now. “James?” 

“Where the hell have you been?” James demanded harshly, striding forward and grabbing him by the upper arms.

Q was stunned by the unexpected move, but he stubbornly planted his feet and brought his arms up, breaking James’ grip. “What are you doing?”

“What are you looking for?” James grabbed him again, by the shoulder this time, and giving him a little shake. “What’s Silva after?”

Why ask _him_ that? Q hadn’t been privy to any more of Silva’s plans than simply programming the computers. “How the hell should I know?”

James huffed in frustration. “You’re his agent. You tricked me into bringing you here so you could steal something. Now, what is it?”

Q forgot his anger as he stared at James in astonishment. “Steal something?” he echoed, unable to process the absurdity. He’d been Silva’s prisoner. He certainly had no intention of doing anything to benefit the man.

“You escaped the minute you could. You’re obviously here to steal something.”

Q scoffed. “The reason I snuck out of medical had more to do with what I overheard, and the only thing I was searching for was _you._ Although maybe I should rethink that plan since you obviously don’t care that there are traitors here.”

Uncertainty flickered across James’ face before twisting with suspicion once more. “What do you mean, ‘traitors’?”

“They tried to drug me in medical.”

James’ eyes narrowed. “Why do you think that? There were no orders for anyone to drug you.”

“That nurse, Josh Ward, put something in a glass of water to make me sleep. Before I could drink it, I overheard a conversation I wasn’t meant to.” Q recited the conversation he’d heard, struck by how eerily quiet and thoughtful James became as he talked. Q fell silent when he finished.

Silence filled the hallway for a few minutes while James considered what he’d said. Then quietly James asked, “You’re sure they talked about a Firekeeper? And a Key Master I came to MI6 with?”

Q frowned, nodding slowly. “Yes, why?”

“It means you’re right, and there’s something strange going on. And it means that two people I thought died years ago might still be alive.”

“Who?”

“Alec—”

“Bond! There you are.” Tanner strode toward them, looking faintly harried. “And you’ve found your, erm, guest.” 

“James…” Q whispered, worried. Was Tanner an ally or one of the traitors? 

James shot a look at Q that he couldn’t decipher, than turned to face Tanner, purposefully moving to shield him from Tanner’s view. “Hello, Bill.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Q find no answers to their questions at MI6, so James takes them on the run — to a place where Q finds he has more questions than before.

James waited as Tanner approached them. He’d known Bill Tanner for years, but if what Q said was true, there were traitors in MI6 and he had no idea who they might be or who they were working for. Silva? Some other, unknown group? He tucked Q behind his back for safekeeping, noting the way Tanner’s eyes followed the movement.  _ Curious...  _ Ordinarily James would say that Tanner’s loyalty was without question, but he was suspicious of everyone at this point, and he didn’t like the way Tanner was trying to get a look at Q.

“James, M wants you to bring, erm, Q to—”

The sound of running feet interrupted Tanner, and James spun, careful to keep Q behind him, towards the other end of the hallway. A squad of security guards came around the corner, rifles carried at the ready.  _ Rifles?  _ In MI6? Where there were civilians in the hallways? Normally security carried only pistols. “What the hell is going on, Tanner?” he asked harshly.

Tanner blinked in befuddled astonishment at the guards. James didn’t buy that act for an instant. Tanner was M’s Chief of Staff for a reason — he was smart and never turned a hair under pressure. But Tanner was also a relatively senior member of the Liminal Order of Saint Tanaquil and Saint Tarquin, which meant his loyalty might already be divided. Not every talent was a member of the Liminal Order, but those that were… where did their loyalty truly lie? It was a secular order, supposedly founded in Ancient Rome, and it was meant to protect Talents. It was supposed to answer to no government. Was Tanner’s loyalty divided even further than that? Could he be one of the traitors? 

James eyed Tanner warily — he was glaring at the guards. That could be either good or bad… James reached behind him, to where he could feel Q’s warmth at his back. As soon as he had, Q’s fingers tentatively brushed his hand, followed by Q’s mind cautiously touching his.  _ Good.  _ They would be ready if Tanner proved untrustworthy.

“Rifles down,” Tanner ordered the guards. “We only need you to escort us to M.” 

And that was it. James clasped Q’s hand tight. Where could they go? Where would be safe? Years of avoiding even thinking about a certain place warred with his instinct for making life or death decisions in a split second. But he had no choice. No one would suspect he’d go back there.

Tanner’s eyes widened as he turned his attention back to James and Q. No doubt he realized what James was about to do. “James, no! Everything is under control. Wait—” 

He wasn’t going to wait around and be captured or shot in his own headquarters. Q was with him, and when James could see his destination, he jumped.

* * *

Q rode through the unexpected jump. Or at least, it had sort of been expected. He could tell that James had been angry and suspicious of Tanner. That’s why he had kept close, ready to unlock James’ talent if it was needed. Clearly it had been. Everything happened so fast after those guards showed up, shocking him with their brandished rifles. He couldn’t remember actually unlocking James’ talent. He must have, though. They were here, weren’t they? Wherever  _ here  _ was. This time had been different than the last jump, they hadn’t had time to fully link, and now he was feeling off kilter and had no idea where they were and he could feel himself getting a bit hysterical, which would be no help in the current situation— 

“Q!”

He blinked owlishly, uneasily aware that James must have said his name more than once. He swallowed, then swallowed again as his stomach suddenly protested against the precipitous jump. “What was that all about? Where are we?” 

They were standing in a large room that reeked of long abandonment, of dust and stale air. It looked like the sitting room of some grand old house or manor. Wherever it was, someone had obviously prepared the place for a long period of disuse. The furniture was all covered with drop cloths, and the drapes were drawn closed over the windows. Q shivered in the chilly air. It had probably been a long time since the heat had been turned on. The cold had seeped into the very stone of the walls and wood of the floors...

“Skyfall.”

He turned back to James and frowned. That was no real answer. “I don’t understand."

“The only thing that matters is that we’ll be safe here. Come on, there’s a more habitable wing of the house. We can get cleaned up, and—” James paused and looked Q up and down. “I might have some old clothes that will fit you.”

“All right, but that still doesn’t tell me where we are,” Q grumbled, following James out into a dimly lit hallway. The drapes across one huge window lay askew from where one side of the curtain rod had fallen.

James frowned at the downed rod critically, as if its failure had personally offended him. He spoke to Q almost in an aside as he went to a closet and rummaged inside it. “We’re at Skyfall, my family’s ancestral home. I never come here, so no one chasing us will think to check here.”

“Are they?” Q asked, venturing towards the window to look out. The land outside had been poorly kept up, even with the normal decline from the early winter frost. It was full of withering, overgrown grasses with the still standing corpses of dead trees scattered about. He wracked his brain for where he’d seen any similar landscape. North, somewhere? There was silence behind him, and he flushed as he turned around to explain his question. “Chasing us, I mean.”

He needn’t have worried — James didn’t appear to have noticed his distraction. In fact, James was just coming out of the closet with a pair of lanterns and some matches.

“Took me a minute to find these,” James muttered, almost to himself. “Not used to needing matches here.”

Q cocked his head. “What?” Maybe James meant that he wasn’t used to needing lanterns here? He glanced at the walls, looking for telltale signs that wiring had been put in at some point. Surely there was electricity of some sort, even in a house this old? 

James looked up in seeming embarrassment. “Nothing. Or at least, nothing to concern yourself with just now. To answer your question, yes, they might be chasing us. But we’ll be safe enough here.”

The repeated reassurance was oddly comforting. Q just hoped James was right. He’d been resigned to the knowledge that Silva would want to recapture him, and now it seemed they were on the run from MI6 as well. He watched as James expertly lit both lanterns and handed him one.

“Come on. We can’t turn the heat on, so it will be a cold supper for us, and no baths. But the water is fresh, at least, and we’ll be able to get somewhat clean.”

Q followed James deeper into the building. He still had what felt like a million questions, and the only way to get answers was to stick close to his host.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Q settle in at Skyfall. Q has some questions that need to be answered.

Q followed James into an almost-cozy hiding place in the manor’s cellar, accessed by a revolving panel behind a half empty wine rack that required a complicated sequence to unlock. James had showed it to him, patiently repeating the sequence until he’d gotten it right, in case he needed to get into the room by himself. Q wasn’t sure if he should be warmed by the consideration or alarmed at the thought he might have to flee here on his own at some point.

This far underground, the room actually seemed a bit warmer than outside. He had expected it to be cold and damp. And instead of the massive weight of the pile of earth and rock above them feeling oppressive, it felt almost welcoming. It was as though the earth and the walls were protecting them from more than just the winter’s cold. 

A pump in the corner of the small room produced water, which was indeed as cold as promised. But it was also fresh, and Q did enjoy the feeling of being clean. The spare clothing that James had found in one of the boxes hung a bit large on him, but he solved that by tightening the belt a notch and rolling the sleeves of the jumper up a bit.

Surprisingly — or perhaps not, since this was obviously some kind of bolt-hole — there were boxes of dehydrated military meals stashed away among the gear on the shelves. While loath to risk smoke in such an enclosed space, James relented enough to kindle a small fire, so they had tea and a somewhat warm dinner. 

Q sipped his almost-too-strong tea. He’d left it steeping a bit too long, or perhaps that was just the unfamiliar blend’s particular flavour. He absently scanned the room as he drank. Rather spartan quarters, really. When had this been built? The manor itself was ancient, but the shelves of various boxes, the table and chairs, and the cots with sleeping bags looked to be more modern additions to the room. Maybe it had been a larger than usual priest hole that had been repurposed into some sort of panic or survival room? The living area upstairs had looked abandoned. Which made him wonder — “Why are we down here? We could have a fire upstairs.”

James jabbed his spork into his container of unidentifiable whatever-it-was they were eating and shook his head. “This is an uninhabited building. Everyone local knows that I’m never coming back. If anyone saw smoke rising from the chimneys, they’d investigate, and we’re not supposed to be here, remember?”

_ Never coming back?  _ There was a story there. But — “You mean there’s no chance of someone sleeping rough sneaking in to camp here, or even local kids being mischievous?” 

“Nice try,” James said, smiling at him. “The locals respect the manor and the family, so they keep an eye on things. The Kincades, in particular. They’ve been groundskeepers here for I don't know how many generations. Bonds and Kincades go way back.”

_ Drat.  _ That would appear to be that. Resigning himself to a chilly night, Q cast about for something else to say. “Back at MI6, why were you suspicious of Tanner? I could tell you were, but not why. I had thought he was a friend of yours. Do you think he might be working with the traitors?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t take the chance that he was.” James glanced at Q, and then away. “Tanner’s a member of the Liminal Order, too. I don’t trust them.”

_ Didn’t trust  _ — Q frowned. “But they’re supposed to help protect and guide Talents. Why don’t you trust them?” His eyes widened at the look of suspicion James turned on him.

“Are  _ you  _ a member?”

“No. Just the minimal training in my talent when I was young, of course. Like everyone else.” Q waited a beat. It was odd that James was so suspicious of the order. They were everywhere! “Didn’t you get training from them?”

James didn’t answer, he just gave a reluctant nod and went back to his dinner.

Q should probably stop asking questions, but he was a bit nervous about the whole situation, and asking questions was what he did. “You were going to tell me what that conversation I overheard meant. The two people you thought were dead?”

Fortunately, James didn’t seem to mind answering him. “There were three of us. Me, Alec Trevelyan, and Felix Leiter. Alec and I met in the SBS — the Special Boat Service.” He shot a look at Q, probably to see if he knew what that was.

“The Navy’s version of the SAS. Special Forces.”

“Yes.” James favored him with a sly smile. “You never know what information you computer types don’t know about the military.”

Q laughed. “I know as much as the next person who watches the telly!”

“All right — I came from the Navy, and he was a Royal Marine Commando. Both of us junior officers at that point in our careers. We just… clicked.” James stared pensively into the distance for a moment.

Did that mean James and Alec had been lovers? James was a handsome man, and Q wouldn’t have minded at all if there had been a possibility of sex in their future. But if James and Alec had been involved, he’d have to forget about that idea — at least until this situation had been straightened out. Whether it was a one night stand or trying for a relationship, old partners suddenly alive under mysterious circumstances made for an uncertain start to any relationship.

“Alec was a Firekeeper, and I was a Gatekeeper. We were in high demand for missions requiring something to explode and quick getaways. We needed a Key Master, of course. That was where Felix came in. He was American, CIA. We worked together a couple of times. I think he was the one to bring us to M’s attention. That’s how Alec and I ended up seconded to MI6.”

A Firekeeper? That explained James’ earlier comment about not being used to needing matches here.

“On our last mission together, Felix got sent in, too. The Americans wanted representation for some reason. I’m not sure why. Alec and I only cared that we would be working with a friend. There was a chemical weapons factory in Russia, at Arkhangelsk.” He pronounced the Russian name perfectly, at least to Q’s inexpert ear. “Alec went in first, to suss out possible places for sabotage. Felix went in next, as a distraction. He was playing the part of a politician from the Sudan, needing a tour. I went in last, with the timers. We didn’t want to rely on Alec’s talent, but we were prepared to use it if necessary. Something about proof, I think. Felix would be there to unlock my talent, and we were supposed to gate away. Instead…” he shook his head with a slightly puzzled frown. “I still don't know what went wrong."

Q bit his lip, wanting to know, but not sure if he should ask. “What happened?”

“Everything went wrong.” James shook his head again, his eyes going unfocused and distant. “I’m not sure how. Sometimes it seems like a nightmare, or a memory of a nightmare....”

That was odd, Q thought. James had never seemed anything less than certain about anything in the time they’d known each other. Whatever had happened at Arkhangelsk, it had been traumatic.

“Felix… I think Felix was dead. He…” Once more, James shook his head, almost as if he was in pain, like a headache. “I remember seeing his body. He was dead. I made the rendezvous with Alec in a store room, and we went to the warehouse. We were wiring the canisters when the Russian soldiers shot their way in.” There was a long silence, as if James was getting lost in the memory.

Q frowned. Should he put a stop to this? But then James began speaking again.

“Alec and I… We fought them off while we kept wiring the warehouse to explode. Then the base commander called out. He was in charge of the base, I don’t know why he would be with the soldiers rather than in his office. Colonel Ourumov. He had Alec prisoner, in the middle of the room.” James stopped again, confusion crossing his face. “I never could figure out how that happened. Alec would never have let himself be taken prisoner without enough noise that I’d have heard it.”

“What did you do?” Q leaned forward, certain that this would be important.

“Alec was kneeling on the ground, at Ourumov’s feet. Just kneeling there.” James stopped, seemingly surprised at the sudden anger and outrage in his own voice. He took a moment, then went on. “Then he called out to me, told me to finish the job. And Ouromov shot him. In the head.”

Q was horrified. James had seen his partner murdered like that? Even hearing about it, years later, it sounded traumatizing. No wonder James had a difficult time remembering it.

“After that… After I saw Alec killed, I escaped. There were so many canisters… I shot at them. I must have hit one of the explosive charges, because it exploded, and I escaped on a conveyor belt through to the loading dock. I managed to steal one of the cargo planes, and got out of there.” James stopped again, thinking. “The whole place went up, right after that. It was odd. I wouldn’t have thought the warehouse blowing up would destroy the rest of the complex, too.”

“It almost sounds like something out of a movie.” _And there was something about the way that James told the story..._ Q wasn't sure; it just seemed... _off,_ somehow. 

“This was real. It happened.” James glared, then his expression turned considering. “How about you? What secrets do  _ you  _ have, Q?”

_ Oh, shit. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Q are still in the safe room at Skyfall, exchanging stories. Now it's Q's turn to answer James' questions...

James sat at the table in the old safe room — a place he never thought he’d see willingly again. He avoided looking in the direction of the two cots where he and Q would sleep. The ghost of Alec Trevelyan lurked there, laughing at him with a madcap grin, just as Alec had done the last time they’d been there together. 

He kept his attention focused on Q, sat across from him. He had asked about Q’s secrets. Now he watched Q intently. Waiting. All too expressive hazel eyes shifted, looking away from him, and he mentally weighed what little he knew of his companion. Which would Q tell him now? The truth? Or a lie? 

Q fiddled with the half-finished mug of tea sitting on the table in front of him. Then, with a sigh, he relaxed a bit, obviously having come to a decision. “My name is Zack Evans. I prefer Q.” He stopped, meeting James’ eyes steadily now, a look of clear warning in his eyes. 

James couldn’t help but wonder what the story behind the initial was, but had to admit that he was impressed. Q wouldn’t continue until he nodded in agreement.

“About three months ago, I was looking for work. I’d just finished a contract.” Q shrugged sheepishly. “I tend to work myself out of them. When I finish, each position is better off than when I started. Anyway, I submitted my resume to a couple of different companies. Had a few interviews.” Here, Q’s smile turned self-deprecating. “I’m good with computers, much better than most, but there are others out there that are nearly as good.”

That was the truth, James thought, but it was still strange. Should he wait, or see if Q answered his questions with the rest of the story?

“One of my possibilities was Silcor. They’re an international consulting firm, with offices all over Europe and Asia. I interviewed at their London branch and got the position.” Q stopped, eyes going distant as he remembered. “Included full relocation to Singapore, and they even paid for a little flat. Nice little benefits package, too. I’ll miss that.”

James nodded. Overseas postings could be lucrative, but — “Why work with computers? You’re a Key Master. You could have your pick of assignments.”

Q stiffened, giving off the air of an offended cat. “Computers are just as important, and I enjoy working with them.” 

With a stray thought that Q was utterly adorable, James pressed on with his line of questioning. “And yet you were desperately searching for work.” He was certain of this, though he wasn’t sure how he knew.

“Ah, well.” Q shrugged, seeming a bit embarrassed. “My parents didn’t exactly approve of my choice of careers. They thought, like you, that I should work as a Key Master, and I wanted to do something else. If it took too long for me to find a job, they wanted me to look for an ‘appropriate’ position.”

 _There._ James held himself still, not wanting to give away his sudden flare of suspicion. Not that Q was lying, but that he was holding something back. Q had been unexpectedly open so far, so why keep this secret? Maybe it wasn’t related? He forced himself to relax. He’d find out sooner or later. “Why were you in that cell?”

Q shuddered, an expression of distaste flashing across his face.

Because of the cell? James studied Q once more. Q reached for his mug of tea and took another sip, and James recognized that as the delaying tactic that it was. Perhaps it was the memory of what he had found that was bothering Q. 

After another round of fiddling with his mug, Q eventually answered. “I came across some files I shouldn’t have, and I got caught.”

James leaned forward. Was there was something about the files that Q didn’t want to reveal? “Exactly what did they say?”

“How should I know?” Q scowled at him. “I don’t have an eidetic memory, you know.”

 _“Approximately,_ then,” James said, trying — and failing — to keep the bite out of his voice.

Q’s chin raised in challenge. “What I remember is that Silva was trying to set up a sale of information with the Janus Group. I don’t know what the information was, it was in another file. I didn’t get a chance to decrypt that one. He also had a list of some Double O names, including his own. And yours. That’s how I recognized your name.”

Disappointed that there wasn’t more, James sat back and considered his next question. Q had stumbled into something he shouldn’t have — or had Q deliberately gone looking for anything interesting? — and had been found out. “How did they discover you’d been poking around where you weren’t meant to be?”

Q flushed faintly with embarrassment, bringing James’ protective instincts surging back. “The metadata associated with the information. It didn’t just identify the information was there, it also captured a record of who had looked at it. I hadn’t… considered that possibility.”

“Hmmm….” That was possible, James supposed. Still feeling overprotective, he asked his next question. “What happened when they caught you?”

“A pair of guards showed up at my office. They…” Q trailed off and looked away again. James decided flatly that if he ever found those guards he’d kill them. After taking a deep breath, Q managed to continue. “They brought me to that island, wherever it was. And Silva…” Q swallowed. “Silva _knew_ I was a Key Master. That’s why I was hired. He planned… I don’t know what. But he was furious that I’d seen the information. He said… he said that if I worked for him as a Key Master, he wouldn’t kill me. I refused. That’s when he threw me in that cell.”

James nodded, satisfied that he’d gotten as much out of Q as he could, at least for the moment. Q had seemed unusually relaxed in the safe room, especially for someone who had spent a few weeks in one of Silva’s cells. James didn’t like the tension he’d inadvertently raised in his companion. “Finish your tea,” he ordered gruffly.

In uncharacteristic obedience, Q lifted the mug to his lips and drank.

“He was trying to break your spirit,” James mused, wondering about Silva’s motives. Having a tame Key Master would be a coup for any criminal organization.

“Yes, I suppose he was,” Q agreed, still rather subdued.

“Didn’t work, did it?”

Q smiled shyly. “Not after I met you.”

Warmed by the thought that Q was relaxing again, James finished his own dinner. He wasn’t expecting Q to glance curiously at the door.

“Is someone trying to get in?” 

James frowned at the question, his eyes flicking over the small warning lights scattered around the room. They were all dark. None of the alarms had been tripped. How would Q know if someone was at the door? Then he heard the faint click of the door lock disengaging. He sprang to his feet, knocking his chair over backwards, and went around the table. Q was just starting to stand, alarm showing on his face. James pulled him to his feet and stood protectively in front of him. 

“James? What—?”

“Hush.” He pulled his gun and aimed steadily at the door. He’d kill whoever was trying to break in. A deep rumble seemed to shake the room slightly, and before he could do more than wonder at the vibration — an earthquake? — a trickle of dust from the ceiling drifted into his eyes. He blinked, and blinked again, his eyes watering and irritated. He swore as the door opened and the intruder entered. He prepared to fire, aiming blind with his eyes still tearing. His finger tightened, squeezing the trigger—


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Q are in the safe room hideaway at Skyfall Lodge. They should be safe from their enemies — but someone is attempting to break in...

_ Eyes watering, in pain… James blindly aimed his gun towards the safe room door as it opened. His finger tightened slowly on the trigger, squeezing... _

“Watch where you’re pointing that, ya jumped up little shit!”

Startled at hearing the familiar voice, James instantly released the trigger and pointed the muzzle of his gun towards the ceiling. He squinted, peering through blurry, still watering eyes. “Kincade? Is that you?”

“Who else would it be coming in here like this, ya daft git?”

There were few people in this world that could send James back to his childhood with just a few words. Albert Kincade was one of them. He fought the urge to scowl the way he would have as a child. Instead, he blinked rapidly as he holstered his gun, trying to get the grit out. He finally managed to clear his eyes and the old groundskeeper wavered into view, looking distinctly unimpressed.

“Had a feeling someone was here. Suspected it would be you.” Kincade frowned at James’ left side. “Who’s this?”

Of course it was Q, who had edged out from behind him. Leaving his protection. James swore under his breath. 

“James?” Q sounded uncertain.

“It’s all right, Q,” James said, reminding himself that Q was a civilian, and Kincade wasn’t a threat. He tried to sound reassuring. “This is an old friend. The Kincades have looked after Skyfall since before there were Bonds.”

“Aw, now, I wouldn’t say that, lad,” Kincade said gruffly. “There’s always been your family here, same as the Kincades. Your family’s name has changed a time or two is all. Always someone of the blood here, no matter the name. Keeps things going.”

“How do you do, Mr Kincade?” Q asked, overly polite, after darting a quick, nervous glance at James.

“Well enough, lad, well enough. No need ta be so formal. Just Kincade will do.”

Q nodded, although to James he still looked a bit dubious.

“Now then, what are you two doing here?”

James hesitated, but only for a moment before he made his decision. Kincade already knew, in a general way, that he worked for the government. He trusted the old man, too. Kincade would help keep the unknown traitors off their trail. “We’re on the run. No idea who we’re up against.”

“If you could get me access to a computer and decent internet, I might be able to help,” Q cut in, looking from him to Kincade. Q’s eyes were wide, as if he was deliberately trying to convey trustworthiness and innocence.

“He’s quite good with computers,” James added, remembering their earlier conversation. He couldn’t help the teasing smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth as Q flushed.

“Yes,” Kincade nodded thoughtfully. “I can help you there. Come on, the wife would never let me hear the end of it if I left the two of you here to fend for yourselves. I’ve got a hot dinner waiting, and there’s a couple of spare beds in the house.”

Kincade turned, obviously expecting them to just follow along without protest.

Well. James mentally shrugged. Why not? He’d be glad to not spend the night with the ghost of Alec’s memory. He inclined his head toward the door and said to Q, “You heard the man. Let’s go.”

* * *

The Kincades’ cottage was a sprawling, two storey affair just down the road — if you consider two miles away to be just down the road. Q noted the windows were all dark as he got out of the land rover. Hadn’t Kincade said that his wife was waiting at home? He put his confusion aside, though, and followed James and Kincade to the cottage. He’d find out the answer soon enough, after all.

Kincade unlocked the door and went inside. Q entered next, with James crowding behind him as if afraid Q might bugger off somewhere. Q snorted to himself. Ridiculous. Where would he go?

The lights came up with a snap when Kincade flipped the wall switch. Q’s first impression was that the cottage was cozy, for all that it was a large place, and there was a delicious aroma of hot food wafting in from the kitchen. 

“You two have a seat,” Kincade said gruffly. “I’ll go check on the state of dinner.”

Q’s second impression, as their host left the room, was that the cottage was filled with furniture that his grandparents might have favored. Old and comfortably overstuffed. His stomach growled as he wandered over to where James stood looking at family photographs on the mantle. “D’you think we can expect Mrs Kincade soon?”

James frowned at him in confusion. “She’s been dead for the last ten years.”

Q stared at him. “But Mr Kincade said—”

“Ahhh, right. He said that his wife would never let him hear the end of it if he left us to fend for ourselves.” James grinned, a lopsided affair that did funny things to Q’s insides. “He’s right. She would have never let him live that down.”

“I see.” Q pondered that for a moment. “So, he’s honoring her memory, then?”

“Something like that.” James went back to studying the photos.

“I bet you know everyone there,” Q said, not sure of what else to say.

James glanced at him then back at the photos. “Not quite, as it happens. This one—” he tapped an old picture of a middle aged couple posed in front of the cottage, “—is Kincade and his wife, Rose. And this one is the whole family,” he tapped another picture, this one with the Kincades a bit older, sitting on the couch from the living room, surrounded by six other people, all looking to be somewhere in their thirties, with several young teens and children underfoot. 

“Such a big family,” Q said, feeling a bit wistful. His own family was just him and his parents. His grandparents were still around, on both sides, but they were all involved in the Liminal Order. He was the rebellious offspring for wanting to work with computers. “Do you know all of them?”

James shot him a glance, but pointed out the people he knew. “This is Robert, the oldest son, and his wife, Martha; Francie and her husband, Charles; and Matthew and his wife Katie.” He moved on to the set of newer pictures around the edges of the display. James studied the pictures, then shook his head, regretfully. “These are the grandchildren; they’re all grown up now. I’m afraid I don’t know who is who anymore.”

Q didn’t believe that for a moment. He had a suspicion that James had grown up tagging after the Kincade children, and even if James hadn’t kept in touch with them, he surely had kept tabs on them.

Kincade’s gruff voice sounded from behind them. “Why don’t you take a stab at it? See who you remember.”

“A challenge?” James flashed an uncomfortable smile at Q. “All right, I accept.”

James studied the pictures for another moment, then nodded sharply. He tapped the pictures in turn. “These are Francie’s kids, Christina, Michael, and Alice. And these are Matthew’s kids, Bethany and William. I don’t know who the other young man is. Beth’s boyfriend?” He glanced at Kincade.

“Almost right,” Kincade said, an approving note in his voice. “That’s William’s boyfriend, Patrick.”

James raised a startled eyebrow but said nothing at the revelation. He just nodded and moved on. “Then these three must be Robert’s kids, Andrew and Lily, with a friend. Their sister Jennifer’s missing, though. Did something happen to her?”

“Jennifer is Jonathan now,” Kincade said firmly.

“Good-looking young man,” James managed, after a stunned silence that dragged on just a smidge too long. 

Kincade squinted at him, as if attempting to discern what James meant.

Q wanted to know, too. He still wasn’t sure if James was gay or bi. Could James be attracted to Jonathan? Or one of the others? And why should he even worry about that? He had no claim to James Bond. And even if he did, Alec Trevelyan surely had a stronger claim. Speaking of Trevelyan… “Mr Kincade, if there’s time before dinner, could you show me your computer? I’d like to set up a search.”

As if glad to deflect attention, James jumped in to agree. “That’s a good idea.”

“Eager to get started, are ye? Well, dinner will be ready in just a shake.” Kincade flushed a bit. “One of my, er, lady friends brought over a stew.”

_ “One  _ of your lady friends?” James asked, a note of amused respect in his voice.

“Yes, well,” Kincade said, sounding uncomfortable. “There’s a few ladies in the village that I’m seeing. No harm in that.”

“No, of course not.” James said, his fondness for the old man showing through. 

“Still, if it will be a minute or two, can’t I get started on the computer?” Q pulled out his best I’m-a-harmless-waif look and turned it on Kincade. “James can help set the table.”

James stared at him. “I can’t tell if you’re shameless or ruthless.”

“Opportunistic,” Q quipped back. “Besides, it’s an effective use of our time to have the search running while we eat.”

Kincade stood frowning thoughtfully at them, but finally gave in. “Computer is in the office, right through there.” He pointed to the right, then said to James, “Come on, then. Table won’t set itself.”

Q smirked as Kincade led a put upon James towards the kitchen. Then he went to the office. What kind of computer would he find?

He was braced to discover something almost as ancient as Kincade himself, but was pleasantly surprised to find one of the latest models of the best brand. Maybe one of the Kincade children or grandchildren was in computer sales?

In any case, it didn’t matter. All that he was concerned with was setting up his search parameters. He had two simultaneous search runs planned: one to look for hints of whoever their enemies might be, and the second to search for any mentions of Alec Trevelyan or Felix Leiter.

When he was satisfied the searches were running as they should, he left the room, making sure the lights were out and the door was closed. Then he went in search of dinner. Whatever the stew was, it smelled delicious, and definitely promised to overshadow the memory of the paltry meal he and James had shared earlier.

Behind him, unnoticed in the darkened room, the computer lit up, chiming gently as it indicated multiple hits on the requested information.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q uncovers a computer trail that could very well lead them to Alec Trevelyan. James has his doubts that Q could have gotten results so quickly.

After dinner, James helped Kincade clear the table while Q went into the other room to check on his computer search. James was glad that the boffin was out of the room. He thought he could trust Q, but he had to make sure. With the revelation that hidden forces were at work in MI6, and discovering that he couldn’t trust the motives of his coworkers, James had to be suspicious of everyone. There was even the possibility that Q was nothing more than a well-placed honey trap. 

It was awfully convenient to come across a Key Master in Silva’s cells… And for Silva to know that Q would be excellent honey bait, someone had to find out that James was interested in more than just the ladies. With Q out of the way, James had the chance to see if Kincade knew of anyone nosing around, asking questions about either him or Alec. If, that is, he could get a word in edgewise. For such a normally taciturn man, Kincade seemed eager to ensure James was up to date on the local happenings. 

“Young Jonathan, now, is coming right along. Learning the ways of the land, he is,” Kincade said as he put his load of plates in the sink. “Takes after his uncle, thank goodness. The Two Saints know that none of Matthew’s own kids has the spark to take to the land.”

James flinched at the reminder of St Tanaquil and St Tarquin. The Liminal Order was ubiquitous; he reminded himself that that Kincade had never been a member. There was no questioning _his_ loyalty. James simply nodded, striving to maintain an air of polite interest as he collected the rest of the plates from the table. Kincade had always told him that a groundskeeper was more than just someone who looked after the the house and its lands. James had never quite understood what that meant. He’d never felt as connected to the land or the manor as the Kincades did. He took advantage of the pause in Kincade’s conversation to ask a question. “Have you seen—” 

“What the?” Kincade turned as a startled cry came from the front of the house. “That was your young friend.” 

_Shit._ James shoved his load of plates into Kincade’s arms. “Stay here,” he ordered, and was out of the room and headed towards the study before Kincade could object. What could have happened to Q in a house as safe as this one? He drew his Walther as he went. 

“Q? Are you all right? What happened?” James burst into the room, his Walter leading the way. He found Q bent over the computer, frantically typing. “Q?”

“I’m fine. I was surprised to see so many hits so quickly.” Q straightened, and waved towards the monitor with a triumphant grin. “See for yourself!”

James took a deep breath, then another, in an effort to smooth out the rush adrenaline, and holstered his Walther. He frowned when he looked at the monitor. How could Q read anything on it when it was so blurred? He bent to look closer. “You could at least fix the focus,” he growled. “How can you read anything like this?”

“What?” Q asked, sounding utterly baffled. “There’s nothing wrong with the screen. It’s perfectly fine.”

“What?” James shook his head. “No, it’s all blurred, like… like astigmatism. Skewed.” He reached towards the monitor controls, intending to play around with them; maybe he could bring the screen into focus.

“It’s completely in focus,” Q said quietly, touching James’ arm, to stop him before he could touch the controls. 

James frowned at the screen, tilting his head first one way, then the other. They couldn’t both be right. “What do you see, Q?” He frowned, absently rubbing a hand against his temple.

“Websites mentioning Alec Trevelyan. Nothing saying where he is now, but it’s all recent.” Q smiled hopefully. “It’s proof that we’re on the right track, James.”

Impossible. He squinted at the screen, practically willing his eyes to focus, and gradually the letters resolved into laser sharp clarity — along with the fine thread of a headache slicing its way through his brain. He massaged his temples, wondering if Kincade had paracetamol, and sighed as he realized what the problem must be. “You’ve got the wrong man, Q. Close, but we’re looking for Alec Trevelyan,” he pronounced the name carefully and waved at the computer with the hand not attempting to relieve the pressure in his head, “not Adam Treadway.” 

Q blinked at him in disbelief. “That page doesn’t say Adam Treadway anywhere on it. It’s about Alec Trevelyan.”

“No, no, no.” James shook his head. He pointed to the first result and went down the list, moving his finger as he went. “Look here. You’ve got the initials right, but the rest of the name is wrong. LinkedOn profile for Adam Treadway, Allen Tremaine’s FacePage, Alice Trenton — hmmm, that’s interesting, she does translations. Advert for a company belonging to Aled Tresillian, Alan Tredinnick’s Tweeter account… Oh, and this one actually _is_ Alec, but it’s from before he died.” His voice went quiet as he read the listing. “Alec’s last promotion in the Royal Marines…”

James became uncomfortably aware that Q was staring at him, mouth open. “What?” he asked, suddenly irritable as the pressure in his head increased. It wasn’t his fault Q couldn’t spell Alec’s name properly in his damn search query.

“Is everything all right in here?” Kincade’s gruff voice interrupted them.

“Yes, Mr Kincade, thank you,” Q said politely. He glanced at James, then said, “Actually, I believe you could help, if you have a moment?”

Kincade nodded and stepped into the room.

Q stepped away from the computer and allowed Kincade to take his place in front of it. “Please read the names you see here in these listings.”

“Hmmm…” Kincade frowned. “They all say Alec Trevelyan. Isn’t that the name of your old partner, James? The one that died a few years back.”

James swallowed hard. The pain in his head had become nauseating. He forced the words out of his mouth, trying not to sick up. “That’s right, Alec died. None of these are him. They can’t be.” But… why would Q lie about that? He knew for sure that Kincade wouldn’t. His knees felt weak, and then Q was at his elbow, guiding him to a chair.

“Sit down before you fall down.” Q’s voice was quiet in his ear. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know,” he managed, sounding faint. What was wrong with him? He closed his eyes and swallowed again. He refused to be sick. Q kept a hand on his shoulder, but mercifully said nothing else.

“I’ll fetch some paracetamol.” Kincade’s too loud voice came from the door. James winced, but the groundskeeper said nothing more as his heavy footsteps headed away from the room.

A too-warm hand pressed in on James’ forehead, magnifying the pressure inside his skull a hundredfold. He jerked away from Q with a hiss. Hot. He was too hot. Burning up. Was it the light in the room? Someone had turned it all the way up. It was too bright. He could actually see light shining red through his closed eyelids. And his clothes… His skin itched underneath them. He started tearing at his shirt. He had to get it off. His eyes opened wide in panic as he sought out Q. He couldn’t breathe— 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James has just collapsed. Q must find a way to help - and to convince Kincade not to throw him out.

Q stared in horror as James suddenly clawed at his shirt collar and started hyperventilating. He swallowed against the fear churning in his stomach. _What could he do to help?_ He felt completely useless. With no other ideas, he backed away to give James room. 

“I’ve got the paracetamol—” Kindcade said, walking back into the study with a pill bottle and a glass of water. He stopped short at the drama unfolding in the room, his eyes widening as he shot a look full of alarm at Q. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know,” Q said grimly. He had an idea, though. And if he was right, he knew a way to counter what had been done to James. He nodded at the table. “Please put those down, and give us some quiet.”

“Hmm.” Kincade grunted, looking at Q with an expression filled with doubt. He did as directed, though, and put the bottle and glass on the table. He only backed away as far as the door. Kincade stood there, arms folded and waiting, a silent barricade.

Q nodded at him. Good. Kincade was out of the way, at least. That he could work around. He concentrated on James, who had succeeded in tearing open his shirt. Q wouldn’t let himself be distracted by the attractive triangle of skin that was now in view. _Time for that later,_ he scolded himself. Save James now. 

“Let’s get you on the floor,” he decided. There would be more room there, and less chance of James knocking him away with random flailing. Fortunately James didn’t fight him. Kincade, however, stirred in the doorway, shifting his weight. Q shot a glance at him. “I’m not risking him falling off the chair and getting hurt.”

Kincade looked sceptical, but only nodded. “Right.” There was an undertone that threatened mayhem if Q did anything to hurt James.

Q nodded. He understood wanting to protect someone. He turned his concentration back to James, who was still writhing, full of pain and gasping for breath, and oblivious to everything else that was going on. 

Once James was on the floor, Q knelt beside him and thought back to his training as a Key Master. Learning how to link deeply to the talent they needed to unlock was a Key Master’s primary goal during training. There was another, final lesson that only a few Key Masters learned. Those were the ones who were destined to become leaders of the Liminal Order. Q had been one of them before he repudiated his calling and his family. He centered himself and took James’ hand, momentarily surprised at how hot James’ skin had become. He put his other hand on James’ face and closed his eyes, concentrating on opening the connection between them.

He’d butted up against James’ mind before. In Silva’s cells, he had been impressed by James’ cool demeanor and structured mind. There'd been a hint of grief in James’ memory, but that hadn’t been important at the time. He didn’t regret not tracking it down at the time because escaping had been more important. He couldn’t have known the grief hid a trap. Q brushed against James’s mind, focusing now, and recalled the lesson.

* * *

It was always bright and airy in Mr Baker’s study; the huge windows countering the first impression of a staid, old fashioned office with its heavy wooden furniture and book laden shelves. Q didn’t exactly pace, but he couldn’t bring himself to sit still while he waited, so he walked around the office, reading the titles of the books and admiring the paintings in the gaps between the bookshelves. What did Mr Baker want with him today? His parents had stressed the importance of this meeting.

The door to the study opened. “Ah, young Evans. Good. Prompt as ever, I see.” Mr Baker crossed the room and sat on one of the couches.

“Yes, sir,” Q said, wishing the old man would get to the point. He’d completed all the training. His parents had promised that he’d be able to decide his own fate after this — provided he met this one last time with Mr Baker.

“Sit down, lad.” Mr Baker smiled, a genial thing that in no way reached his eyes. When Q was seated in front of him, he started. “Your parents tell me you’re ready for your final lesson.”

Q raised his chin. “They said that I have to have this lesson, then I can do what I want.”

Baker’s lips thinned. “After this lesson, you will be bound to the Liminal Order, Zack Evans. I’m against it. I don’t think you have what it takes. But your parents assure me that your recent behaviour is just teenage rebellion, and that you will fall into line when you know the truth.”

“The truth?” Q leaned forward. He had to admit that he was curious now, but he still had no intention of working as be a Key Master. The call of the world of computers was too strong for him to deny.

Mr Baker apparently thought that curiosity meant that Q would comply. His smile turned smug. “Excellent. Let me into your mind. For this lesson, you need to picture a physical location.” 

Q could feel Mr Baker’s mind drawing closer to his. He hastily thought of a place that would distract Baker from his real mental landscape. A meadow full of wildflowers filled his mental scene, hiding his preferred world of ones and zeroes.

* * *

After entering James’ mind, Q found himself once more in a mental landscape that was alien to his own. Rooms surrounded him, opening off a vast hallway that he now recognized from Skyfall Lodge. Most of the rooms were locked. A few were padlocked. Down at the far end of the hallway, there was a room that was secured with huge wooden bars as well as being chained and padlocked. He contemplated that, but soon realized that wasn’t what he was looking for. 

He sensed danger coming from the hallway to his left. Remembering his training, he reached out and stroked the walls as he walked that way, projecting a calm that would send James into unconsciousness. He was dimly aware that Kincade said something, but he ignored it. He had to act fast. Somewhere, there was a command in James’ brain that had been triggered, and it would only stop its attack when James was dead.

The dark hallway twisted and turned, becoming smaller and more cramped, until at last he was crawling. He kept on, hoping it wouldn’t get any smaller and force him to scoot along on his stomach. At last he reached an open area where he could stand. As he stood, an open door appeared opposite him. The room beyond it had a general air of disuse — and of something evil. He gathered his protection around himself and went in.

The room was a strange hybrid. It should have been bright and sunny, welcoming, but the furniture was covered in dropcloths and dust and the windows were covered with heavy drapes, just as in the real Skyfall. But the other part of the room was completely different. There, the shadows moved and whispered around what looked like a warehouse floor. Flames crackled, licking at the walls, and threatened metal barrels full of an unknown substance. Despite the light given off by the fire, Q couldn’t quite see what the shadows were hiding. 

He peered closer, approaching as close as he dared to the edge of the shadows. Above him, he thought he could see a man lying on a metal platform beneath a wide window. Something told him that was Felix Leiter. The shadows abruptly whispered louder. _Shit._ He’d gotten too close. Q backed away, letting the shadows calm down again. He swore. He needed to get in there and fix whatever it was. James was depending on him.

“You can’t win,” a voice — no, several voices — hissed, sounding as one. Q didn’t recognize the accent. 

He looked around, hoping to spot the speaker. The shadows leapt and danced, mocking him. Hiding the corners of the room.

“Ssseeee? Ssseeeee? You can’t find meeee,” they called, taunting.

Q ignored them. They were only shadows, meant to obscure the memory. The threat to James was something else. The flames abruptly flashed higher, filling the room, and he flinched back, away from the heat and light. _What the hell?_

Dimly he was aware of James convulsing under his hands and Kincade swearing. _Fuck._ He needed more time! Q projected more calming thoughts to James to settle him down, then concentrated on speaking aloud for Kincade. “Everything’s all right. It’s fighting me. It knows it’s going to lose.”

He paid no attention to Kincade’s response. The shadows parted in their chaotic dance, and now Q could see the factory floor. Alec Trevelyan lay there, bleeding from a wound that had shattered his skull. Q’s stomach twisted at the sight as the shadows laughed at him. No wonder James couldn’t face this memory.

Well. He squared his shoulders. Whoever had planted the false memory in James’ mind was long gone, leaving only the protection surrounding that memory. Now it was time to send that protection packing. Q smiled grimly. He had an agent to save. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q battles the construct guarding James' mind. If he wins, James will have his memories back. If Q loses... James might lose his mind.

“Now then,” Q said, picturing what he would need for his next step in destroying the guardian construct. “Let’s see what you’re made of, shall we?” 

He grabbed the fire extinguisher that was now waiting for him on a table right outside the ring of fire. As he moved forward, he aimed the nozzle at the base of the fire, sweeping the flames away with the spray in a back and forth motion. He ignored the bodies of Alec and Felix, difficult though that was. They were only distractions. 

The shadows retreated to the walls as the fire died down, where they writhed in agitation. They screamed and roared at him instead of whispering, but he ignored them. They, too, were only distractions. Q’s goal was the spot below the platform, where the darkest shadows were gathering. Instinct told him that the controlling construct would be there. It would also be where he would face the most opposition as the guardian construct defended itself.

“Q!” James suddenly appeared, blocking the way. His face was twisted into a cruel grimace. “Go away, you aren’t needed here.” 

“You’re not James,” Q said, not giving an inch.

“Of course I am, and you’re not welcome here.” The James construct pointed dramatically in the direction of the door. “Leave!”

“No.” Q took a deliberate step forward, smirking when the construct dropped back a step as he expected. “Who are you?” 

The construct didn’t answer in words. He drew a pistol from a holster hidden beneath his suit coat in a movement that was faster than the eye could follow, and aimed the pistol at Q. “Come no farther!” 

Q took another step, a part of him wondering if the real James could draw his pistol that quickly.  _ Why was he thinking of that now?  _ He shook the thought away. It was another distraction. He needed to concentrate.

“I warned you,” the construct snarled. He squeezed the trigger, firing rapidly at Q. A dozen bullets sped through the air, unerringly seaking their target.

The bullets struck Q in the space of a breath, but he stood firm. He smiled as they passed through him harmlessly. He was in control here.

Obviously shocked, the construct wavered, losing his form. Ripples passed through him; when they subsided, a different man confronted Q. This one was dressed in the uniform of a Russian colonel and stood in front of him with a ratlike sneer. “You can’t win.”

The same words as before. This time, Q realized the odd accent must be Russian. Was this construct the image of someone James had seen on that mission? He would have to ask later. Q walked forward again, projecting confidence. “Oh, I think I can.”

The construct screamed in anger and rippled once more. This time the rippling left a beautiful, red-haired woman in its wake. Her eyes glittered with madness as she held an AK-47 rifle aimed directly at him. 

Q paused, assessing her. She was somehow more solid than the previous two. Was she the primary construct? He stepped closer to her and yanked at the AK-47 with all his might. The construct screamed in anger as he twisted the rifle away from her, vanishing as it left her grip. Q backed away, alert for a possible counterattack. “What do you want?”

The construct screamed again and rushed forward, shoving Q off balance with shocking strength. “For you to go away!”

Her words rang in his ear, her voice blending with the voices of the Russian and James, as Q fell back. He braced for the shock of hitting the concrete floor, but instead Q landed in his own body in the real world. Light and sound assaulted his unprepared senses. What the hell—? He could make out Kincade swearing again as James convulsed. Q spared no thought of explaining what happened. He had to get back in there. 

He hadn’t battled for anyone’s mind since his training. This time, though, he had no intention of losing.

* * *

Q found himself walking through a graveyard when he returned to James’ mindscape, instead of appearing back in the warehouse or the hallway. His breath plumed in the chill air, which momentarily confused him until he realized. Of course he had to breathe. James’ mind was quite structured. If Q had a physical form in this scene, then he needed to breathe. He peered around the twilight landscape. It wasn’t quite dark wherever this was, and the weak illumination coming from above didn’t extend very far. He had to watch where he put his feet in the uncertain light. Broken statuary lay strewn throughout the paths of the graveyard, forcing Q to pick his way carefully through the overgrown grass. Most of the headstones he passed had fallen over, and many were crumbling into the ground. 

Q stretched out his senses as far as he could reach. It was no good. He could detect no trace of the evil that might lead him to his enemy. He swore.  _ Where the hell is this place, anyway?  _ All he could do was keep walking. There had to be a clue somewhere. He kept alert for any changes in his surroundings.

As he came around a decaying mausoleum, he caught sight of a dark figure crouching next to one of the graves. Q stopped, studying it. Was it another of the construct’s forms? No, this one seemed different. Q started walking again when he realized that it was James, wearing a long, dark coat, and kneeling next to the headstone on one knee. Oddly, James paid no attention to Q’s presence at his shoulder. 

Curious as to what had James so beguiled, Q bent to look at the inscription on the headstone. The lettering was worn almost completely away with time, and he couldn’t make out the dates underneath the names at all. Q peered closer and gasped as he finally put the faded letters into words.

_ Here lie Andrew Bond and Monique Delacroix Bond.  _

As he watched, the headstone shifted, splitting into two. The words changed as well, becoming  _ Alec Trevelyan _ and  _ Felix Leiter. _ Unlike the first headstone, now each letter was etched deeply into the granite. Q shook his head, baffled. Perhaps it was more evidence of the damage that had been done to the agent’s mind? He turned to James, who still knelt next to the graves and still ignored him. With a sense of resignation, Q asked, “Where are we?”

Instead of answering, James slowly stood, the long, dark coat swirling around his ankles. Q took a step back in horror, stumbling, as the agent turned to him, a vague blank where the face should be.  _ Where was James’ face?  _ Q clenched his fists, digging his fingernails into his palm. Control. As long as he was in control, he was in no danger here. After a deep breath he relaxed, shaking out his hands. He studied James, not sure now how he knew it was the agent. Somehow, though, he was positive that it was. “What now?”

James pointed toward the mausoleum.

Q turned to look at it. It didn’t appear to be any more promising than anything else in the graveyard. He looked at James sceptically. “Is that where I should go?”

Silence. Q shrugged. “All right.” After all, he had no other ideas at the moment. He headed to the mausoleum, walking around to its opposite side — the side he hadn’t passed by earlier.

There he found a gate hanging open, a rusted chain dangling broken from one half. Q peered into the darkness beyond the gate. Nothing. Once more he reached out with his senses. Still nothing. With a muttered curse, Q shoved the gate open far enough that he could pass through unhindered. He stepped through into a wall of light. He blinked rapidly, willing his eyes to adjust as the light faded and he was met by the crackling flames and whispering shadows of the warehouse. The redheaded construct was there, too, facing away from him as she watched the side of the warehouse that was still Skyfall manor. He stepped forward and froze as the construct spun around.

“You!” She snarled at him in anger and frustration. 

Hatred slammed into him, and Q hastily pulled his senses back in, blocking the waves of fury from the construct. He eyed her. She stood in the middle of the warehouse, glaring at him.  _ How could he vanquish her?  _ Q thought quickly. He might have only moments before she attempted to throw him out of James’ mind again. There must be something from his long ago lessons that he could use…

Yes! He had it — just as the construct rushed at him once more, shrieking. Q concentrated on the warehouse, picturing the barrels intact and neatly stacked. When he had them, he found Felix Leiter and placed him on the platform. Alive, this time. Shocked, the construct paused, staring at Felix in disbelief. Taking advantage of the few seconds’ grace, Q brought Alec Trevelyan back, standing ready on the stairs to the platform. 

“No, no, no!” The construct shrieked again, her voice merging once more with the voices of the Russian and James. 

Her fury slammed into Q as she screamed, tearing at his control of the image he was building. First Felix crumbled onto the platform, then Alec collapsed to the floor.

_ Shit.  _ At least he hadn’t lost the barrels. Sweating now, Q concentrated harder. If he could just picture the changes quickly enough… He started with Alec this time, bringing him back with a cheerful smile. Felix was next; soon he too was standing again, gazing out over the warehouse floor. A blur of motion caught Q’s eye. The construct was coming towards him — fast. Q desperately reached for the last figure he needed. Would he have enough time?

His answer came in the form of a crash, as someone tackled the construct into a table from the Skyfall half of the room. “James!” Q sagged in relief as he saw the agent, even though he knew that this James was his own construct. 

The enemy construct lay motionless in the wreckage, appearing to be down for the count. Still, Q approached her cautiously, his James standing protectively close. He wished he could give in to the impulse to lean against his James, but he had work to do yet. He studied the enemy construct. The woman was no one he recognized. Perhaps this was the form of the Key Master who manipulated James’ memory? Q crouched down, intending to memorize her face, when her eyes opened. He straightened in shock as she bared her teeth at him in an insane grin. 

“Shit!” He threw himself backwards, one arm up to ward off debris, as the construct exploded. 

* * *

Once more Q landed back in the real world. He braced for the assault of light and sound, breathing through the pain, until the sensory input faded to normal levels. His brain felt as though it had been fried… 

“Are ya all right, lad?” Kincade’s gruff voice penetrated Q’s lassitude.

“I think so…” Q attempted to assess his condition, feeling as though his thoughts were moving through molasses. There was something… He gasped in shock as he remembered.  _ James!  _ Q panicked, his adrenaline surging. He forced himself to sit up, fighting Kincade’s attempt to lay him back down. “Where’s James, how is he?”

“I’m fine, Q. I think. Sore, though.” James’ weakened voice came from close by. 

Q looked to his left. The agent lay on the floor beside him looking like death warmed over, but there was a peaceful clarity in James’ ice blue eyes. Q sighed in relief. That last, desperate gamble had worked. 

With relief came fatigue, flooding through him once more. He didn’t protest as Kincade eased him back down next to James. Q lay there, just breathing, his eyes closing in exhaustion. He didn’t have the strength to fight as darkness claimed him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James woke up very confused the morning after Q fixed his brain. Or at least, he thought he woke up. He wasn't exactly sure where the ballroom came from. Or the people waltzing.

James became aware of music and motion first. He was standing upright, moving to the music… a waltz. Dancing? He blinked his eyes open and everything snapped into focus. The music filling his ears became crisp and sharp, every note distinct. The heat of the crowded ballroom pressed in on him, the feel of the suit, snug against his skin, and the man he held in his arms… Q smiled up at him, wearing an obviously bespoke suit, and following his every lead as they danced.

Why would he be dancing with Q? James caressed the smooth fabric of the cloth covering Q’s back, and moved them into a turn. He took the opportunity to look around at the other couples filling the dance floor. The men were all military, wearing their gaudiest dress uniforms, he realized suddenly, and the decorations were all for the holiday ball he’d attended the year before he left the Navy for MI6. He frowned. That was strange. Shouldn’t he be wearing his dress uniform? 

The crowd of dancers parted briefly, allowing James to catch a glimpse of Alec — who was in his Royal Marines dress uniform, James noticed absently — waltzing with a woman. James couldn’t tell from this angle if she was the brunette Alec had brought to the ball originally. He guided Q closer to where Alec and the brunette danced. Alec seemed to ignore him, and spun with the brunette in time to the music. James swore to himself in surprise as he got a better look at her. Of course he couldn’t recognize her. She had only a blurred oval where her face should be. Strangely, Alec didn’t seem to care. Or maybe he didn’t notice, because as he waltzed her past, he kept his eyes on James, grinning all the while. 

James stared at Alec and the woman until they disappeared into the crowd of other dancers. The other dancing couples crowded closer, reminding James that he was dancing with Q. Feeling a bit guilty for his distraction, he brought his attention back to his partner. Q didn’t seem to have noticed James’ inattention. That was definitely odd, because there was very little that Q would miss. More proof — if he needed any — that whatever was going on, it wasn’t real. A dream, maybe? Before he could ask Q, a familiar voice came from next to his shoulder. 

“James, old boy, there you are!” Felix Leiter danced there, partnered by the woman that James himself had taken to the ball. 

Probably, anyway. James didn’t quite remember. At least her face wasn’t blurred the way Alec’s date was.

“Can I cut in?” Felix asked with a roguish wink towards Q.

“What?” James stared at him in utter confusion, then abruptly found himself dancing with _Felix_ instead. He caught sight of Q nearby, now dancing with the nameless woman. Utterly bewildered, James asked, “What the bloody hell is going on, Felix?”

“Well, first thing, I’m not actually Felix,” Felix said, smoothly taking the lead as they continued the waltz. “We’re not really at this ball, you know. It’s a construct.” 

James frowned, having figured that much out already. He allowed Felix to guide him around the dance floor because he wanted answers. “If you’re not Felix, who are you? Where are we?”

Felix rolled his eyes. “None of this is actually happening, remember? I’m you. Your subconscious. We’re in your _mind.”_

“Why?” James narrowed his eyes at Felix, suspicious. He ought to stop dancing and demand answers to all his questions, but his feet kept moving, following the other man’s lead. And… odd as all this was, he didn’t feel threatened.

“Ask yourself what’s the last thing you remember.”

Wondering if he should trust Felix — or Not Felix — James’ memories came flooding back. Silva. Q. Escaping to MI6 only to flee to the only place he knew no one would ever find him. Then Kincade, and Kincade’s house, and there was more, but… Something about his mind? His… memory?

“Aht! Not quite yet,” Felix said, pulling James’ attention back to himself.

“Why not?” James snapped, irritable from the push-pull of his instincts. Suspicion. Trust. But could he believe what his instincts told him? Was he compromised? The thought sent a chill rushing through him.

“Yes. Something happened. I’m here to help you with it.” Felix shrugged, a small smile playing around his lips. “You might feel you can’t trust yourself anymore. You can.”

James scowled at Felix, who watched him with an innocent air. Of course he still trusted himself. Didn’t he? He thought so, anyway. Then Q and his date danced back in range, catching James’ eye, distracting him, and James _looked…_

“You should ask him out,” Felix said. “He’s exactly your type.”

James’ attention snapped back. “He _is not_ my type.”

Felix smirked at him. “If you don’t ask him out, you’ll never know.”

“He’s not gay,” James said flatly. “Or otherwise inclined.”

“Your type is interested and willing, James. That’s why you’ve never asked Felix out. He’s not interested, and you respect that. Q, though...” Felix nodded towards James’ right, “take a look over there.”

James’ breath caught. Alec and Q danced together; a tango instead of a waltz, despite the music. They sent each other heated glances as they moved perfectly together. James licked his lips. He would be jealous as hell if he knew which one of them he should be jealous of, and oh, bloody _hells_ but he _wanted…_

Felix laughed, disrupting the fantasy that had begun poking its way into James’ mind, a fantasy that involved Q and Alec and maybe James himself if he were lucky. James scowled at him, but Felix only laughed harder and turned them in time with the music — and incidentally turning James away from Alec and Q. “Now that I have your attention…” Felix paused, cocking his head. _“Do_ I have your attention, James?”

James growled at him. “Get on with it.” If this was a dream, he wanted it over with so he could have Alec and Q back.

“You can remember now,” Felix said, oddly intent. “What happened right before the dance?”

James’ feet automatically followed Felix’s lead as the music played on, a counterpoint to James’ racing thoughts… What _had_ happened? What did he remember? Something about Q… A computer search, hadn’t it been? The realization hit with all the power of a wave slamming into a rock. James stopped in the middle of the now empty ball room, staring at Felix in shock. “Alec! He’s alive!”

“And _now_ you’re ready,” Felix said with a triumphant grin.

* * *

James startled awake, gasping. He pushed himself upright and peered through the gloom. A warm blanket slid off his shoulders. _What the hell? Where was he?_ It was dark room; no windows, and the door was closed. The only sound he could hear was muffled voices from another room. He pushed aside his confusion to deal with later. Now he needed to know where he was, when it was, and whether he needed to escape. His eyes adjusted to the low light, and he scanned the room. He relaxed when he realized it was Kincade’s office, the one where Q had set up the computer searches the night before. He considered how stiff he was from sleeping on the floor all night. Longer than one night? Hopefully not. They still still needed to get away from whoever was chasing them.

James stood, realizing he was still dressed. Or mostly dressed. His shirt was unbuttoned. Memories of the night before explained the state of his clothes. Odd, nightmare images flashed through his mind, followed by the certainty that he’d had a pleasant dream after everything was over. A dream full of warmth, and laughter, and closeness. A bit disappointed that he didn’t actually remember that dream, he took the time to poke around mentally in his brain. Nothing hurt, exactly. Maybe a bit tender. Hmmm… he did feel a kind of subtle difference. A lightness, maybe? A certain sureness that his mind was his own, now.

After his clothes were as put together as he could manage without a bathroom and a mirror, James went to the office door and opened it. Pleasant odors wafted past: the smell of a hearty fry up. Suddenly, James was starving. He’d find the bathroom and get cleaned up later. Now he needed breakfast. He smiled as he heard Q talking with Kincade. He needed answers to a few questions, too.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James seeks out Q to find out what happened during the epic mind battle where Q saved James' life. The conversation turns to Felix and Alec, leaving James shocked when he learns of Alec's fate. Meanwhile, Alec makes plans for the weekend....

The hallway was full of light and the sound of voices spilling from the open kitchen door. James inhaled as he approached. The appetizing aromas promised a delicious breakfast. Kincade was no gourmet chef, but he did know his way around a kitchen. Then what Kincade was saying caught his attention. Telling Q something about… goats? Shaking his head in amusement, James entered the kitchen. Kincade was off to the side, standing by the oven, just out of sight of the door.

“—the kids’ll be a bit rambunctious,” Kincade said, his gruff voice taking on the cadence of imparting important information that James had heard so often as a child. “Ye’ve got to keep an eye on—”

“Are you two really discussing goats?” James asked, interrupting Kincade’s lecture, and heading for the counter where he could see the coffeepot set up.

“James!” Q, sitting at the table with a half-full plate and a steaming mug, looked up with a welcoming smile. “You’re awake!”

“You’re looking well, lad.” Kincade nodded to him with a pleased expression. “Your young man here did well.”

 _Urk._ James eyes flew opened in startlement and glanced at Q, who looked similarly surprised. _“Erm,_ yes, I think, erm…”

Kincade waved his hand towards the oven. “There’s breakfast for ya in the warmer there. I’ll let you boys have some privacy to chat about… whatever you need to chat about. Heading to th’ village to chat with a few of my lady friends.” Kincade winked at them, picked up the covered basket from the counter beside him, and headed out the back door. “Be ‘bout an hour or so, lads. Don’t wait up.” With that, Kincade went out the door, chuckling at his own wit.

James darted a glance towards Q, who stared back, looking as stunned as he felt. The thought of Kincade dating was strange enough, but him playing matchmaker for the two of them was almost enough to put James off breakfast. Kincade was like a father to him. Well, uncle, at least. He should take that as a sign to talk to Q first, about what had happened the night before. Then his stomach rumbled, and he thought better of the idea. He shook his head at Q. “Let me get a bite to eat, first.”

Q nodded, appearing relieved not to have that conversation — or at least, not yet. “Good idea.” 

Oddly, instead of finishing his own food, Q posessively caressed a… was that a laptop? Where had he gotten that? James pushed the question aside for now, intent on getting breakfast.

There was indeed a plate in the warming drawer; sausage, fried potatoes, and a cheesy omelet. On the counter sat fresh-baked bread with what appeared to be homemade butter. His tastebuds were clamoring at him as he put the plate on the table and went back for coffee. 

By the time James was settled at the table and eating, Q had gone back to finishing his own breakfast. James watched him pull the laptop closer and power it up, typing commands with a piece of toast in one hand and a mug of tea at his elbow. 

James contemplated Q while he ate, a feeling of warmth flooding his chest. Q was almost entirely focused on the laptop, and James couldn’t help finding that adorable. He took a last bite of the omelette, chewing while he weighed the questions he had… which should he ask first? He _wanted_ to know about Alec — and Felix — but he needed to know about whatever had happened last night. He had the impression that whatever had been in his head had nearly killed him. First, though… “Where did the laptop come from?” It didn’t look like anything Kincade might have.

Q looked up as if surprised he’d said anything. “Oh, erm, one of Kincade’s grandchildren brought it by this morning on her way to work. Christina, I think? I’ll have to pay her back, of course.” Q caressed it again, a gleeful expression on his face. “It’s such a lovely bit of tech!”

James sighed. He knew Kincade meant well, but by involving Christina, that meant more people than James was comfortable with knowing they were there. He caught Q’s sudden questioning look and knew he had to explain. Q was just a civilian, he reminded himself. “We need to talk. What you did to help me last night and what happened to Alec. Then we need to get out of here. If we’re not here when someone comes after us, there’s a chance they’ll leave the Kincades alone.” 

Not much of a chance, of course, but a chance.

Q nodded somberly, his eyes wide.

* * *

Q’s heart fell as James spoke. He hadn’t considered the possible danger when Kincade had offered to get his granddaughter to bring over a laptop. Instead, he’d eagerly accepted. He _needed_ a laptop. He didn’t feel complete without easy access to a computer and the internet. And this one was damn good. He bowed his head for a moment, biting his lip. _Shit._ He looked up, filled with new determination. Right, then. The battle in James’ mindscape, Alec, and Felix. He could do this. He _would_ do this. 

“First things first, then,” he said to James. “You nearly died last night. Whoever modified your memory to believe that Alec and Felix were dead put in a failsafe in case you started to remember.”

James nodded, eyes on something in the distance. “That’s what I thought. Can you describe what you did? I saw…” he shrugged, irritably. “I saw a military holiday ball.”

Q blinked. “A… a ball? That definitely was not the imagery I experienced.” He gave a brief description to James of what he’d done the night before, paying particular attention to the construct’s appearances. He had a feeling they were important.

“The Russian officer was probably the man in charge of the weapons factory — a Colonel Ourumov. Damned popinjay. I’ve no idea who the woman could have been.” James thought for a moment, his brow wrinkling, then shook his head. “No, I didn’t see any women there, let alone one matching that description.” 

“Probably the one who had modified your memory, then.” Q deliberately didn’t frown as James shrugged. _Not taking this seriously enough? Or not understanding the implications?_ Q resolved to keep an eye out for this woman. Key Masters who could — or _would_ — alter memories like this were both rare and powerful. “All right, now what about this ball of yours?”

He listened as James described a military ball, all the women in elaborate gowns while all the men were in dress uniforms. All the men except for two: he and James himself. Q hid a smile at James’ uncertainty in telling him that the two of them danced together, with both of them wearing bespoke suits. He certainly didn’t mind the implication that James _did_ actually have an interest in him. 

Q considered what James had said about what Felix had told him. “I don’t believe that your experience was related to what I did to destroy the construct in your mind. I think it was… Well, as he said. Felix represented your mind, reassuring you that your mind is your own, under no one else’s control.” 

He was pleased to see James’ relief at that information. No one enjoyed the idea that their minds weren’t their own. Not talents, who could at least understand what could happen, and especially not an average person, who viewed all talents with suspicion. And that, of course, was precisely the reason for the Liminal Order of Two Saints. He really needed to find out exactly why James was so against the Order.

“Now, what can you tell me about Alec and Felix?” James broke into Q’s thoughts.

“Oh, right.” Q scrolled over to the correct window on the laptop and spun the screen towards James. “Felix Leiter is in South Sudan, using a pseudonym. Likely the one he used during that mission?”

“Yes, that’s him,” James nodded, then hesitated. “If he’s still under cover… Is it possible his memory was modified, too? If he thought I… suspected he was dead, I’m sure he would have contacted me.”

“In that case it’s quite likely, I’m afraid.” Q spun the laptop back around and pressed a few keys, letting James have a moment to absorb that information. When he thought James was ready, he continued with the what he’d found out about Alec Trevelyan. Hopefully James would take the information about Alec as well as he had about Felix.

* * *

James didn’t tell Q, but what he heard about Felix roused his suspicions. Still, Felix had apparently been in place for the last three years, so he could wait. What James really wanted to know about now was what had happened to Alec. No matter what was going on with Felix, James knew Alec would never betray him. 

“Maksim Larionovich Koval, Russian soldier and Alec Trevelyan’s cover identity,” Q said briskly. Once more he turned the laptop so James could see the images there.

This time, James frankly stared in disbelief. There were two photos on the screen. One was Alec as Maksim, and the other — No. Impossible. “Alec is a Fire Keeper. There’s no way he would be…” He trailed off, unable to finish as he stared at the damning photo. Alec Trevelyan, one side of his handsome face covered by raw burns.

Q took the laptop back, sympathy in his eyes. “If the woman — or whoever it was that modified your memories — wasn’t skilled enough, she could have been clumsy enough to cause Alec to lose control of his fire ability.”

“My God.” The thought of Alec going through what was undoubtedly a painful recovery alone, without _James,_ was infuriating. He wasn’t distracted enough to miss Q’s hesitation at telling him the next part, though. James steeled himself. _How much worse could it be?_

A great deal worse, as it turned out.

The burns on Alec’s face had healed, but were still very apparent. James wanted to be there for him, to soothe the pain lurking in Alec’s green eyes. But who was the woman laughing on _his_ Alec’s arm? Where had she come from?

“She’s Contessa Teresa di Vincenzo, known to her friends as Tracy Vincent,” Q said, his voice matter-of-fact. “They seem to have met while Alec was recovering from his… injuries. The Contessa was at the same facility, recovering from depression brought on by — well, no need to go into that, really. Suffice to say, she’d had a rough time.”

James didn’t care what Contessa Tracy had or hadn’t gone through. “What else?”

Q just nodded and went on. “They left the facility at the same time, and the Contessa brought him home to daddy, one Marc-Ange Draco.” 

“Marc-Ange Draco. Of the Unione Corse? _That_ Marc-Ange Draco?” James sat back, stunned. He and Alec had gone after that mob several times, but had only been able to bring down parts of the whole.

“Yes, exactly so. _That_ Marc-Ange Draco,” Q confirmed. “He seems to be taken with Alec, and has even given him a — mostly legal — job. Alec is the Chief Executive Officer of a company called Dynamic Solutions and Innovations, International. I’m not sure of Ms Vincent’s role, but she and Alec are nearly always photographed together. They’re not married, nor are there any rumours of a possible marriage in the future.”

James needed a few minutes to think this through. He got up, refilled his coffee mug. Alec, working for a mob, the very mobster they’d attempted to bring down. Living with the daughter of that mobster. _Why?_

 _No._ He shook his head. It didn’t really matter, did it? Alec was there, and there James would be. Wait. He looked up from his mug to see Q watching him with concern. “Where is he?”

He kept half an ear on Q’s answer, already planning how to get them both to Alec’s location. Now that he knew Alec was alive, he wasn’t going to rest until they were together again. 

* * *

The sun shone brightly into the 6th floor windows of the Dynamic Solutions and Innovations, International headquarters, overlooking the city of Bruges, Belgium. The office of the company’s Chief Executive Officer was comfortably furnished with a pair of couches and a few armchairs set in a conversational nook, with an executive’s desk pushed against the far wall, its only function to provide support for a vase of brightly colored fake flowers. Alec hadn’t wanted the death of real flowers on his conscience just for a bit of color in the office.

Alec himself was lounging on one of the couches, turning a small object over and over in his hands.

“Did you get my present, darling?”

Alec looked up from his contemplation of said present as Tracy breezed into the room. He buckled the watch around his wrist as she stopped beside him to press a brief kiss to his cheek before continuing on her way to the desk to put down her shopping bags. Alec smiled after her. “I did, yes. Thank you, darling.”

“I thought we’d take the yacht to Ostend this weekend. Spend some time on the beach.” Tracy pulled a blue glass globe out of the bag and surveyed the room. “Hmmm… The bookshelf, I think.”

Alec watched her carry the globe to the bookshelf and place it on a shelf beside a carved malachite cube that served as a bookend. She took a step back to contemplate the result. Interesting juxtaposition, he allowed. Blue and green, glass and stone, globe and cube. However… “It might be better two shelves over and one up, darling. Next to the Lalique.”

Tracy shifted her gaze to the designated shelf and tilted her head. “You might be right, darling. The simpleness of the glass fishing float next to the elaborateness of the vase.”

In due course, the blue globe found its new home next to the green cut crystal Lalique vase, and Tracy sauntered over to the couch. “Budge up, darling.”

“Of course, darling.” Alec obediently shifted, giving her room to settle beside him. He put his arm around her as she cuddled close. “What’s all this, then? All right, darling?”

“Mmmm,” she hummed. “Just wistful, I suppose.”

Well, that wouldn’t do. What would cheer her up? “What’s Marc-Ange up to these days?”

Tracy chuckled against his chest. “Dad’s in Greece, believe it or not.” She twisted around to face him. “I can invite him to dinner if you like?”

“Why not? We can discuss the expansion into Liège.” 

“I’ll give him a call tomorrow,” Tracy said with a decisive nod. 

“Good.” Alec shifted back against the couch and closed his eyes, pleased to see that Tracy already sounded happier.

The watch she had given him dug into his wrist. He contemplated it again. It was an elaborately styled Bulgari, so different from the Omegas he and James used to wear. _James…_ He tightened his arm around Tracy, disturbing her into a sleepy protest. “Sorry, darling,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

His plans for revenge were coming together splendidly. Soon, he’d be ready. He bared his teeth.

Soon…

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr - you can find me at leavesdancing.tumblr.com


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